Echoes of Olympus; The Return of the Forgotten Gods

Chapter 19

Dorian's POV

The sun had barely risen when I found myself walking toward Zephyr's house, a place that used to radiate warmth, laughter, and the occasional scolding from his mom if we got too rowdy. Now, it just felt... empty. Hollow. The paint on the door was chipping, and the little flowerbed that used to sit outside was overgrown and wild. No one had tended to it since Lucian disappeared, and that seemed to sum up everything, didn't it? Everything left unattended, left behind, with no clear idea of where the missing pieces had gone.

Zephyr's house used to be like a second home to me—hell, to all of us. But now it seemed like a skeleton of what it used to be. The loss of his mom hit him hard, but Lucian's disappearance had left a deeper scar, one I didn't think even Zephyr understood fully. There was no trace of where Lucian went, and no one really wanted to talk about it. Zephyr especially.

I took a deep breath and knocked on the door, the sound echoing in the stillness of the morning. I stood there, shifting my weight between my feet, waiting for him to answer. A few moments later, the door creaked open, and there he was—tall, wiry, with the usual cocky smirk plastered on his face. His messy dirty blonde hair looked like it hadn't seen a comb in weeks, and his gold-green eyes were sharp as ever, though there was something clouded behind them, something hidden.

"Ready to go?" I asked, keeping my tone casual, though I could feel the weight of the unspoken thoughts between us.

Zephyr leaned against the doorframe, eyes narrowing playfully. "Dorian, I'm always fucking ready. You should know that by now."

I couldn't help but grin at that. Same old Zephyr. He ducked back inside, grabbing his eyepatch off a nearby table. He always put it on right before we headed out—like a habit, a shield. 

When he stepped out, shutting the door behind him, it felt like we were stepping into something heavier than just a supply run. I clapped him on the back as we headed down the street. "You always were a cocky bastard."

"And you always were a meathead. Guess some things never change," he shot back, a crooked smile playing on his lips.

We walked in easy silence for a bit, our footsteps in sync, boots scuffing against the cracked pavement. The sun was beginning to climb higher now, casting long shadows that stretched out like fingers across the empty streets. It felt strange, the quiet, almost like the world was holding its breath. Or maybe that was just us.

"So, what're we grabbing from the scrapyard this time?" Zephyr asked, breaking the silence.

"Anything that doesn't look like it's been completely rusted to shit," I said. "We need stuff to fortify the warehouse. You know, make sure it doesn't collapse on us while we sleep."

Zephyr snorted. "Yeah, would hate to see your dumb ass get crushed by a pile of metal."

"Please. You'd miss me."

"Would I, though?"

I shoved him lightly, and he stumbled forward, catching his balance with a laugh. That was the thing with us—always throwing jabs, dissing each other, but it never meant anything. It was how we coped. How we kept things from getting too real.

We made it to the scrapyard quicker than I expected, the place a maze of twisted metal and forgotten things. It was like time had dumped all its unwanted memories here, leaving them to rust and rot in the sun. Piles of old cars, broken appliances, and random scraps were scattered everywhere, and the smell of oil and rust hung thick in the air.

Zephyr whistled low as we stepped inside. "You sure we're not gonna get tetanus just by breathing in here?"

I chuckled, though I couldn't shake the weight I felt in my chest. As we began sifting through the junk, I decided to bring it up. The thing that had been gnawing at me ever since Lucian disappeared. I knew Zephyr didn't want to talk about it, but I couldn't leave it hanging between us forever.

"So... you've heard anything about Lucian?"

Zephyr's hands froze for a second, gripping the edge of an old metal sheet he was inspecting. He didn't look at me as he tossed it aside and moved on to the next thing, but I caught the way his jaw tightened, the way his eyes flickered to the ground before quickly darting away.

"Nah," he said, too casually. "He'll turn up when he's good and ready, you know Lucian. Probably just off somewhere, doing his thing."

There it was. The wall he always put up when Lucian came up. The one he thought was strong enough to keep the truth out, but I could see through it. Lucian wasn't just "off somewhere." Lucian was gone, and none of us had a clue where he'd gone. I could see it in Zephyr's eyes, behind the sarcasm, behind the attitude—he was worried. More than worried. It was eating him alive.

"You really think that?" I asked, keeping my voice low, not wanting to push too hard, but not willing to drop it either.

Zephyr shrugged, his expression hardening. "I don't know, man. What do you want me to say? That I've been losing my mind wondering if he's dead in a ditch somewhere? 'Cause that's not gonna help anything."

I didn't say anything at first, just kept digging through the pile of scrap in front of me. After a few moments, I glanced over at him, his back turned to me as he rummaged through an old box of gears and wires. His movements were quick, restless. Like if he just kept moving, kept his hands busy, he wouldn't have to think about it.

"Zeph, it's okay to be worried," I said quietly. "You don't have to act like you don't give a shit. We're all in this together, remember?"

He snorted, shaking his head. "Yeah, well. Worrying doesn't get anything done."

I watched him for a moment longer, then sighed, deciding to drop it for now. Zephyr had always been like this—deflecting, dodging. He didn't like to show weakness, didn't like to admit when things bothered him. But I knew him better than anyone, and I could see the cracks, the parts of him that were barely holding it together.

"So, what are we actually gonna use this shit for?" Zephyr asked, his tone lighter now, clearly trying to change the subject. "You seriously think we can make that dump of a warehouse into a fortress?"

"Not a fortress," I said, tossing aside a rusty piece of metal that looked like it could give me tetanus just from touching it. "Just something sturdy enough to keep us alive."

"Right, because that's the goal these days—barely surviving," he muttered, though there was a hint of a smile tugging at his lips. "Hell, at least it'll be better than my place. That dump's one gust of wind away from falling over."

We worked in silence for a while after that, gathering up anything that looked remotely useful—metal sheets, broken wooden pallets, even an old stove that could maybe be fixed up with enough duct tape and wishful thinking. The sun was climbing higher now, casting long shadows over the yard, making everything look even more desolate than it already was.

Eventually, Zephyr spoke up again, his voice quieter this time, more serious. "You really think we're gonna win this? The whole Defiance thing?"

I glanced at him, surprised by the sudden shift in tone. "I don't know. But we've gotta try, right? If we don't, then what's the point of all this?"

Zephyr didn't respond right away, just kept picking through the scrap in front of him. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely audible. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

And for the first time in a long time, I saw something in his eyes—something raw and vulnerable. Maybe he was thinking about Lucian, or maybe he was just tired of pretending he wasn't scared. Either way, I knew we were both carrying the same weight, the same doubts. But we didn't have the luxury of giving in to them.

"Come on," I said, slinging an arm over his shoulder. "Let's get this shit back to the warehouse. We've got work to do."

Zephyr smirked, though it didn't quite reach his eyes. "Yeah, yeah. Always the fucking optimist, huh?"

I grinned. "Someone's gotta be."